


Lonely, But Not Alone

by grump_ass



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: AS A GHOOOOOOST, Blood and Gore, John Comes Back, M/M, Suicide mention, Trans Alex, Trans John, Trans Pregnancy, bigender georges, gun mention, philip and georges can see dead people, philip is Not Okay, suicide ideation, this pieces working title was Ghosty Goo AU, trans philip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-05-25 11:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6192838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grump_ass/pseuds/grump_ass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Philip Hamilton has spent the aftermath of his father's death seeing ghosts. It wasn't until he was sixteen, though, that he began to see John himself; mute to everyone except for Georges. With the details of his father's death unclear, he decides that John has remained seeking one thing; redemption.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It had been a normal Saturday afternoon. Alex was taking Philip down to the park to play until Eliza could pick him up for their day out. John helped him put on his shoes one at a time.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come to the park with us, daddy?” Philip asked again, free foot swinging as John laced the other.

“I am one hundred percent positive, baby,” he said, smiling at him, eyes tired. “Your little sister is fast asleep, and I want her to nap for a little longer.”

Philip pouted. “But you always play with me at the park.”

“I know, kiddo. But I want Angie to have a nice nap so she isn’t a grumpy butt today.”

Philip giggled at that, and John finished tying his shoe and gave his knee a pat. “You’re ready for take off, captain.”

Philip jumped forward and hugged him around his neck, peppering his face with little kisses. John held him back, hug tight around his little body even after Philip’s hold had loosened. Philip laughed.

“Daddy, I gotta go to the park,” he whined, not genuinely annoyed. John held him close for a second, then exhaled slowly and let go, and pressed a kiss to Philip’s forehead.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, daddy.”

Alex walked in then, smiling at John and Philip, bouncing a half asleep Angelica on his hip.

“You ready to go, Phil?”

“Yeah,” he chirped, standing and running to the door and grabbing his bag for Eliza’s day trip. Alex smiled at John.

“I’ll be back in an hour, okay?”

“Alright,” John said before leaning forward to kiss Alexander tenderly. Alex smiled, and leaned in, savoring the kiss for a moment, then stepped away, John following him for a split second.

“I love you,” he whispered, blinking.

“I love you too,” Alex said, then handed over Angelica and walked to Philip, still waiting at the door. “Bye, John.”

“Bye, daddy!”

“I love you,” he called softly.

“I love you,” they called back in unison before Alex shut the door, not bothering to lock it; John could do that.

The park was down the street, easy to spot from the house. It took Alex and Philip only three minutes to walk there. Alex watched Philip play on the equipment, keeping an eye on his bag for him.

About thirty minutes later, Eliza arrived, a smile on her face when she saw Philip. He ran to her, throwing himself into her arms.

Alex smiled, rising with the bag and handing it to Philip. “Thanks again, El.”

“It’s nothing. Let me just go put Philip’s bag in the car and he can play for a little longer while we talk-”

“WAIT.” Philip screeched, stopping in his tracks. “I left Monsieur Flops! I gotta get him!”

“Philip, you’re coming back tonight,” Alex reasoned, but Eliza shook her head.

“No, it’s fine. Philip can run and grab him, I don’t mind.”

“Okay…”

“Can I go alone?’

Alexander looked hesitantly up the road, then said, “Alright… but if you aren’t back in ten minutes, I am siccing the dogs on you.”

Philip nodded, and ran back up the sidewalk, abuzz with the new freedom he had. He reached his house, and knocked on the door for John to let him in.

No response. He fiddled with the doorknob. Still unlocked. He cracked the door open.

There was no sign of John. Philip entered slowly, shutting the door behind him and going upstairs to his room. Monsieur Flops was waiting, the little scarf Eliza had knitted him still wrapped tightly around his neck. He picked him up, smiling at his favorite toy, and walked out of his room. He was almost at the head of the stairs when he heard soft cooing from Angelica’s room. He hesitated slightly; he was supposed to be back at the park soon or his pops would stick the dogs on him, and he wasn’t supposed to go into Angie’s room when she was napping. But when he listened, she didn’t sound like she was sleeping; she sounded like she was babbling. He stepped inside, and crossed to her crib. She looked up at him and squealed, smiling and chewing on her fingers. Philip smiled, and reached into the crib. He quickly became distracted by his little sister, forgetting that he was supposed to go back to the park.

He was playing with Angelica and her tiny toes when he heard the door to his pop’s office slam shut. Philip shrugged it off, and looked back to Angelica, cooing at her as she gurgled happily at him, not even whimpering at the office door shutting.

They both jumped when they heard the gunshot coming from the office.

Philip dropped to his knees, grabbing the crib and dropping Flops. Angelica was frozen, hands curling into fists in front of her face. Then her bottom lip popped out, and her face began to scrunch up as she emitted an ungodly wail.

After Philip’s attempts to calm her failed, he grabbed Monsieur Flops, stood, and ran downstairs to the office. If his dad was there, he could ask him for help with the wailing baby. Philip was too young to pick up and rock Angelica himself, but his dads could do it.

(If they were busy, they sometimes even let him hold her himself, as long as he had a pillow under his arm and stayed very still.)

He was formulating an apology for waking her, and how to ask if John had heard the gunshot when he opened the office door.

“Daddy-”

And there was John, at Philip’s feet, blood gushing from his head and pooling around Philip’s sneakers, a gun inches from his hand. Philip froze in the door, hand tightening on the soft toy in his arms. For a moment, he felt like he couldn’t see anything except for John before him, and even Angelica’s cries seemed distant. Philip looked to the front door; the door he had left unlocked. It was slightly ajar; he hadn’t shut it properly.

Or someone else had opened it.

Philip took several steps away from John, and screamed before running back upstairs, sneakers leaving bloody tracks down the hallway.

Philip stumbled up the flight of stairs, and hurried to Angelica’s room, where her cries had softened. Philip slammed the door shut, locking it and dragging a toy chest in front of the door to keep out whoever had shot John. He squeezed Flops close to his chest, hurrying to Angelica’s crib and patting her head, trying to silence her before they could be found. He wept softly, shaking violently as he avoided looking at his blood soaked tennis shoes.

Several minutes later, he heard the front door open.

“Philip,” Alex called, “John? Where are you guys-”

Silence, then a scream. Philip sobbed harder.

“Fuck, John- Philip? Baby, where are you?”

Philip couldn’t find words, just continued his crying as he listened for Alex and prayed he would find him, or whoever had broken in, quickly.

“Jesus, christ, Philip, baby, please.”

Philip heard Alex running upstairs at breakneck speed. Alex ran into Angelica’s door, and shook the doorknob.

“Philip? Baby, are you in there?”

Philip whimpered, and Alexander cursed.

“Baby, open the door, please.”

Philip shoved the toy chest out of the way and unlocked the door, which flew open to reveal a frazzled and crying Alex. He dropped down and grabbed Philip, pulling him close.

“Jesus Christ, Philip, are you okay?”

“Someone shot daddy,” Philip wailed into his ear. “I left the front door open and someone shot him.”

“Shush, sweetheart, it’s okay,” Alex reassured him, rubbing his back.

“He’s bleeding, daddy’s bleeding.”

“I know, baby.”

“We need to call an- an ambulance.”

Alex hesitated, then whispered, “Yes, yes we do.”

“And the police- they need to find the guy who shot him.”

Alex picked him up onto his hip, whispering back, “Shush, sweetheart.”

“Alexander, is everything okay-” Eliza called from downstairs.

“Don’t come in, Eliza, just call 911,” Alex shouted back.

“What’s wrong-”

“Stay out, Eliza, please.”

“What is it-”

“It’s John.”

Silence, then Eliza running down the hall.

“Eliza-”

“Get Philip out,” she called up, “I’ve got Angie.”

Alex shifted his hold on Philip, then ran back out. Eliza was at the head of the stairs.

“John-” Alex began.

“I saw,” she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Philip found him.”

“I heard the man shoot him,” Philip cried, clinging onto Alex. “Call the police, Auntie Eliza, please.”

“We will, baby, let’s just get out first.”

Alex continued running, telling Philip to shut his eyes when they reached the foot of the stairs.

“Don’t look, Philip, don’t look.”

Philip hid his face in Alex’s shoulder and cried into his toy, trying to shut out the smell of John’s blood, thick and metallic in the air around them.

“I should have locked the door for him,” he cried, “I should have locked it when it was already opened.”

“It was open-” Alexander’s voice faltered, and he whispered, “Oh jeez, sweetheart, it’s not your fault.”

“I let the bad guy in, I let him in.”

“Baby, there was no bad guy, I promise.”

“Then who shot daddy?”

Alexander didn’t answer that, opting instead to hold Philip so his back was to the house and letting him sob into his neck.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *updates five hundred years later as a sign of an impending apocalypse*

 

**Ten Years Later**

 

Philip woke up at seven in the morning to his future step-sister making breakfast. And while he appreciated the smell of eggs and sausage, he did not appreciate the fact that it was seven. In the morning. On a weekend.

 

He tried to sit up, only to realize that Georges was curled around him, keeping him pinned down. 

 

“Georges,” he mumbled, half asleep.

 

Georges sighed, burrowing into his side. 

 

“Babe, please. I gotta get up.”

 

Georges’ fists curled in Philip’s shirt as he breathed softly, still refusing to stir. Philip looked to the door. He could have sworn he saw a shadow dart pass it, but he shooed the thought away; he knew all about shadows at this point, he only needed to worry about them if Georges could see them as well. That didn’t stop his heart from beating faster and his hands balling into fists. 

 

“Georges,” he whispered again, and finally, Georges stirred. 

 

“Oui, mon amour,” slurred Georges, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

 

“I think I saw something, by the door, can you please wake up,” Philip asked.

 

Georges stopped rubbing his eyes and pulled Philip close, letting him rest his head against Georges’ shoulder. Georges reached around to Philip’s back, running his nails gently through the shirt. 

 

“Do you see anything?” Philip whispered into Georges’ neck.

 

“No. It wasn’t real,” Georges whispered. Philip sighed, moving his head to look at the door again. Georges sniffed softly. 

 

“Are those biscuits?”

 

“Yes, let’s go eat them all.”

 

Georges detangled himself from Philip, stretching out and yawning. Philip placed a hand on his knee to get his attention before leaning in and kissing him softly. Georges sighed into his kiss, placing a hand on his cheek to hold him close. Philip’s mouth began to open, letting Georges angle his head so their mouths pressed against each other’s perfectly. 

 

Finally, Georges pulled his mouth away, Philip following him until Georges placed a hand on his chest and pushed him away.

 

“I’m hungry, and you have morning breath.”

 

Philip grumbled good naturedly, getting out of bed and stretching out his limbs. Georges yawned, arching his back before joining Philip, kissing his cheek before crossing to the door, not noticing the dark shadow now waiting by it.

 

“Georges, it’s back,” Philip whined anxiously, staring pointedly at the shadow until Georges came back and walked with him across the door, blocking the shadow from him and closing the door behind them.

* * *

Angie was half asleep at the table, typing on her phone and chewing on a piece of bacon. She was only eleven years old, but already Philip could see their father’s tenacity in her as she began to fill her screen with words. When Philip snuck a closer look, he realized it was a google document, and Philip chuckled; she was probably trying to get in some early morning work on one of her many half finished novels.

 

She looked over her shoulder at him.

 

“Snooping is against the rules, Phil,” she stated, referring to the set of rules instated in the Hamilton household; out of respect to the many writers and essayists and poets in the household, nobody was allowed to read someone’s work without the explicit permission to do so.

 

“I wasn’t snooping, Angie, I would never,” Philip replied, ruffling her hair and ignoring her huff of annoyance to snag a biscuit from the plate on the table. Georges smiled at Angelica, pulling up the chair next to her and quietly whispering to her in french; which was interesting, considering her reluctance to speak in english, let alone french.

 

“Philip, don’t eat everything please,” Theo called from where she was pulling cinnamon rolls out of the oven. Seriously. Cinnamon rolls. At seven in the morning. The girl was an eighth wonder of the world.

 

“Good morning, Theo. Tell me, how long have you been awake?” Philip asked.

 

“Since five in the morning,” she replied easily, and, yes, she seemed showered and somewhat presentable, implying this was the fourth or fifth part of her morning. “Me and Dominique went on a jog.”

 

“And where is our favorite lesbian now?”

 

“Showering. She prepared coffee too.”

 

Philip shot up at that, and Theo chuckled as he scrambled for a mug before pouring himself a cup. 

 

“Amazing,” Theo teased.

 

“Don’t shame me, I’m not some freak of nature that wakes up at five in the morning so I can make breakfast food.”

 

“That’s fair,” she sighed, giving the frying pan of hashbrowns a quick shake.

 

They were both quiet for a moment, and Philip looked back to Georges. The look he shot back confirmed that, no, he didn’t think Theo had gotten any sleep the night before, and, yeah, it was probably due to her having a paranoia attack.

 

Before he could say anything to Theo, a door opened and closed, and Alexander appeared, bleary eyed. Which was good, Philip decided, because it meant that Theodosia’s father had managed to get him to fall asleep.

 

“Morning, kiddos,” Alexander mumbled sleepily. He pressed a kiss to Angelica’s forehead before crossing to the coffee pot. He cursed.

 

“I thought I smelt coffee.”

 

“You did. I drank what was left.”

 

“Did you start up a new pot?”

 

“I was gonna.”

 

Alexander sighed, grumbling as he measured grounds and poured water. Philip just fixed himself and Georges a plate and sat down.

 

“You’re so grumpy, Dad,” Angie observed, sipping the glass of orange juice Theo had poured her. “Maybe you shouldn’t drink coffee if it’s gonna make you all frazzled.”

 

Philip snorted at his father’s pointed look.

 

“Excuse you, Angie, but coffee is the only thing that makes me a person some days.”

 

“Same,” Theo murmured over the pan of hashbrowns before shaking them onto a plate. 

 

Alexander looked at Theodosia, and then to Philip, mouthing the words, ‘has she slept any?’ When Philip replied ‘I don’t think so’ Alexander eyed her, worry streaking his features. 

 

“Theo, sweetheart,” Alexander said. When she looked back, he continued, “Have you slept any?”

 

“I slept.”

 

“For how long?”

 

“....for a couple hours…”

 

Alexander sighed, shaking his head. “Theo. Go to bed.”

 

“Let me eat first,” Theodosia replied. She seemed resigned to her fate. 

 

“Alright. No coffee or tea. I’ll wake you up in a couple hours.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Theo mumbled, fixing herself a plate and sitting down at the table. It was then that Dominique made her appearance, freshly showered and her thick braids twisted in a bun. She grabbed an apple before snagging a seat besides Theo.

 

“Dominique, cmon, I made five different things and all you’re gonna eat is an apple?”

 

“I’m working myself up to it, babe,” Dominique argued, kissing Theo’s cheek before returning to her apple. 

 

Theo rolled her eyes, but ultimately gave no further comment. 

 

While he waited for his coffee, Alexander began moving around the kitchen, idly tidying up and rearranging sheets before settling on the carton of cigarettes on the kitchen island. Philip noticed him frown as he considered the boxes contents. When he realized Philip was looking at him, he gestured for him to follow before walking out of the kitchen. 

 

Philip followed him to his study. It was bigger than the one at their old house, and was a little darker, but Philip didn’t think Alex cared, as long as John hadn’t died on the floor in front of his desk.

 

“What’s up, pops?”

 

“Why am I missing cigarettes?” Alexander asked, opening up the pack and showing Philip as if he would notice the difference in Alexander’s cigarette count. All he noticed was the lighter neatly tucked alongside his cigarettes, which Philip knew Alexander didn’t do. 

 

“I don’t know, dad.”

 

“Are you stealing my cigarettes again?”

 

“No, I don’t know where they went.” 

 

“Philip, I promise you won’t be in trouble.”

 

“I know, but I didn’t steal any.” He could get his own cigarettes if the need struck him, he didn’t need to dip into Alex’s. 

 

Alexander considered him for a moment before sighing.

 

“Alright, baby. But if I catch any incriminating evidence, we’re watching a slideshow on lung cancer.”

 

“Pop, you smoke.”

 

“I’m an adult. Your lungs are still developing.”

 

Before Philip could protest, Alexander shook his head.

 

“I’m not mad, you aren’t in trouble. Just don’t start lying anytime soon.”

 

Philip sighed; but at least he wasn’t in trouble for a crime he didn’t even commit. 

 

“Maybe you’ll think this is sappy,” Alex continued, considering the carton with a smile, “But you  _ don’t  _ put the lighter in the box like your dad used to.” 

 

Philip stayed quiet, looking at Alex expectantly; he hadn’t heard his dad’s name in a while now.

 

“He also smoked two at a time, and that’d be enough for the day. He had to quit when he had you and Angie, for a little bit, and then he tried not to smoke until you two were asleep. He stopped shortly before he-” Alexander stopped there, nostalgic smile faltering in lieu of what he was about to say. 

 

“I know, dad.”

 

Alexander stood still, cradling the carton in his hands for a moment before finishing.

 

“You and your dad are alike in so many ways,” Alexander said.

 

“Okay, pop.”

 

“And don’t lie, okay? Just, I don’t know, I don’t want to tell you smoking is okay but-”

 

“I know, I get what you mean.”

 

Alexander nodded, although he seemed unsatisfied with how this conversation was ending. 

 

Philip let him go back the way he had come, listening as he chatted with his family and poured a cup of coffee before going outside; probably to smoke. Philip listened, and wondered who had opened his dad’s pack of cigarettes. 

 

Georges had asthma. He didn’t smoke.

 

Theo’s mom died from cancer. Not lung cancer, but it did make her more mindful of cancerous things. The same went for her father, Aaron.

 

Angie wouldn’t. Point blank. 

 

And, sure, Philip smoked, but he got his cigarettes from work; he didn’t have to take his dad’s. Besides, he wouldn’t smoke while Georges was over.

 

Ghosts couldn’t steal cigarettes; right?

* * *

_ If I had known you had been home, if I had seen you coming, if I had heard you open the door, I would have stopped. I would have waited. You might have even hugged and kissed me again and reminded me why I should have put the gun down, put it back. _

  
_ But it’s too late for if’s and maybes; now I’m just the spirit that follows his family around and makes his husband cold at night. _

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Now or Never](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6192961) by [hamiltonfics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamiltonfics/pseuds/hamiltonfics)




End file.
